Growing Up
by SSA Ariadne Felicity Grey
Summary: Growing up is such a silent, subtle thing. The least to notice are those who are witness to it.


**Author's Ramble: Haller mga mudrabells at madlang pips! Ughhh… I've been spending way too much time with gays. Seriously, our school is literally overrun. I love those guys, especially my best friend, who is by the way the President of our student council, but the rarity of straight guys endured for almost an entire school year has its marks. So, this is my first TMNT fic. Please go easy on me. LEO FOREVER!**

 **Summary: Because no matter what happened, they were fathers first.**

 **Disclaimer: Profile, guys. But for the lazy, no just no.  
_**

It never was apparent.

As _shinobi_ , stoicism was an art, a skill, a necessity. Emotion was a deadly mistress when encountered in War's bed, an alluring yet deceptive concubine.

This was a talent they had mastered during that lifetime when they were brothers. Japan felt like a past life, and in many ways it was.

Like the hostility between their two clans.

Or their childhood growing up.

Like the time they fell in love.

And then came to lose it all.

It was strange how one infinity could be shorter than another, as now a new infinity laid here in New York.  
_

The art of drawing the line between action and heart is now the skill they teach their children, for combat required a distance between the two as those who wear their hearts on their sleeves are the first to bleed.

Yet though their young are the offspring of masters, born and raised in the passion of _ninjutsu_ with far greater capabilities and potential then mere, average human students, and now regardless of inexperience, age or lacking lesson-wise, they were still lethal, dangerous _shinobi_ , the two masters often forgot, that in all their children's deadly, potent glory and glowing, growing potential, they were, in fact, just _children_.

The realization would come in the most unexpected of times.

That time Michaelangelo, age 4 and able to cleave a watermelon clean in twelfths, lost his teddy and cried through the night.

Or that night ten years ago when Donatello, capable of building a car and a television set up from the ground with time to spare to explain the intricacies of time travel and why it _is_ , actually, possible, all before bath time, tugged at his _Sensei_ 's robe, proudly showing off that one tooth loose, now gone, and for some reason never came back.

Or that other time when Raphael, such a tiny thing you would never believe to have nor ever possess such strength, came to him with the teary-eyed request to keep the, if possible, even smaller tortoise silently munching on a leaf in his two hands.

And that moment, almost eons ago, when little Leonardo, such a brave, fearless heart that boy of his, after telling the story of how he had come to lose so much yet gain so much as well, with all his small body, wrapped his fragile arms around his master's clothed legs, for that was all he could reach, in all his innocent belief that one hug could make up for everything.

He, too, remembered a split second when his young prodigy, just 2 yet with so much, scraped her knee. So much like her mother that he could almost believe this little girl was indeed the reincarnation of her; she came to him at his low " _Yame_ ". She stood tall, like a good soldier, braving through the trickle of blood sliding down her small leg, choking down her sobs which somehow flowed to her golden-amber eyes, sweat plastering her raven locks to her porcelain face.

That was the last time he remembered holding her.  
_

The years passed and time made the children strong.

They grew up, their beliefs firm, principles intact.

So far and so different they were from the sweet innocents they once were. Yet in many ways, subtle, indefinable, undetectable, they have not changed.

The realization would come in the most unexpected of times.

In the middle of the night when they would hear soft snores.

And they would tiptoe into the darkness, akin to assassins in search of their targets.

Creeping up to bedroom doors, easing them open just a crack.

And finding small bundles wrapped up tight.

They could see the curves and edges, and anyone else would not see babies but men and women.

Yet they could see scars and bruises, brows once so smooth now slightly wrinkled, fetal positions once done to keep the world out now done to keep the last precious thing within them undamaged.

They saw children hurt.

The realization would come in the most unexpected of times. And it so very near-shattered them with its powerful knowledge.  
_

Training went on as usual. Sparring somehow turning into horseplay, weapons training resulting to the youngest and most high-spirited of the brothers smacking the most passionate of them with the fieriest of tempers in the face, igniting the very temperament of which he was so well-known for. Much running and hiding and cowering ensued along with a few electrocutions courtesy of the resident genius and a series of lectures and scolding by Splinter Sr. and Splinter Jr. with a bit more hits to the head by the senior.

" _Yame_!"

Yup, the usual.

And when the master and his disciples finished, or rather when they got Mikey out of his shell and Splinter decided maybe it was best to take a break, all four bowed low and filed out.

" _Chotto matte kudasai_."

 _Wait a moment if you will._

Raph gulped.

Mikey twirled his fingers.

Donnie rubbed the back of his neck.

Leo was the epitome of poise.

"You all may go and do as you please until your patrol…"

Who was it going to be?

"… but Leonardo will stay."

All four pairs of cherubic spherules widened.

Fearless? Mr. Perfect? Splinter Jr.?

 _He_ was going to take the wrath?

" _Hai_ , _Sensei_."  
_

Training went on as usual. Sparring left no one to challenge her. Weapons' training was without a hitch. She was perfection in motion, grace personified, discipline in action. No muss, fuss, monkey games, shenanigans, tomfoolery or horseplay.

That was something to be proud of.

The ruler of the Foot Clan rose from his perch, a high and mighty king. He stared down at the pseudo arena where his most prized _kunoichi_ stood triumph over her fallen subordinate.

" _Yame_."

Both ninjas ,leader and follower, bowed to each other and along with their fellow _shinobi_ , promptly and steadily headed out the door, training done for now and to be resumed later on.

The single word after made them freeze.

"Karai."

" _Hai_."  
_

Both students kneeled before their respective masters. And this is their only common point.

Of different households, places, principles, creeds and sides. Even species.

Even in the face of who should be their gods.

One looked up with love and reverence.

The other bowed in fear and resentment.  
_


End file.
